


Not So Civilised Existence

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/358216/chapters/580496">Civilised Existence</a>: Or Wherein Belle Claims Herself a Library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Civilised Existence

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't intend to actually write this, but when I was finishing writing CE, the pair of them kept giving me very graphic images of what happened. While I was at work. I know for a fact there was one day where I sat and stared at my screen for half an hour while I was presented with the details in technicolour and surround-sound with action-replays in case I missed anything.

Rumpelstilskin felt like he was frozen, caught in a moment too perfect, too far from his expectations to move. Belle, his beautiful, tempting little housekeeper, lay sprawled so delightfully before him on the grand table of the library, lit by candle- and moonlight.

He bowed over her, his lips to her throat, and he could feel the blood sing.

No pretence, no fear, only true desire.

He lifted his head enough to look her in the face. Her eyes were mesmerising, the pupils wide and dark, and her lips trembled when she smiled. “You’re sure?” he whispered, drawing one fingertip along the curve of her jaw.

Her breath caught and the way her lips parted made something stir within him. She had been gently stoking the fires for days, weeks, and now, there was something ready to burst into flame.

His fingertips trembled as they trailed down her throat, the back of his nails tracing the delicate veins and the rushing blood. Her breath quickened, and oh, that didn’t help, her chest rising and falling so beautifully beneath the shirt.

He forced himself to take his time. If a change were to come over him, he had to be aware, to know enough to stop. His hand stuttered over her collarbone and down, her chest so smooth and pale, shining like burnished silver by the candle flame. By comparison, his own hand seemed all the more repulsive, and he hesitated.

“Don’t think that,” she whispered, as if she could read his mind. She was gazing at him with an intensity that made his knees feel like they were turning to water. “Please. Touch me.”

His lips trembled and he touched the lower with the tip of his tongue as his hand drifted down again. The button of the shirt was cool compared to her skin, and he lifted his eyes to hers as he twisted it free. Another inch of skin, the subtle curve of flesh on bone and the gentle valley between her breasts.

Rumpelstiltskin’s breath escaped in a hiss.

Belle shifted with a breathless giggle. The shirt slipped, one little breast peeping out from beneath the fabric. She bit her lip, her eyes still fixed on his face, then moved her hand to catch his, drawing it down. She was trembling too, but he knew he was trembling more.

He spread his fingers, easing them beneath the shirt, and she made a small, urgent noise as his callused palm brushed over her nipple. She was a tiny thing, so delicate, and it seemed every part of her was the same. He could cover the whole breast with one hand. He curled his fingers, dragging his nails slowly up, then teased the nail of his thumb across, just so.

“Oh!” The sound of surprise drew a quick, impish smile to his lips, almost driving away the ever-present fear. It would be enough to tease her until she quivered, even if he had to take his own pleasure in the privacy of his chambers later.

He met her eyes and saw her expression as he grinned his best wolfish grin, the split second before he lowered his head and gently, carefully, licked. She twitched as if a surge of lightning had run through her, that same, delicious, wanton noise leaping from her throat.

One of her hands was in his hair, and she tugged his head down, demanding. Who was he to refuse such an invitation? He lapped again, and then nipped gently with his teeth. Her back arched, a wordless request, and he forced himself to count to ten. It was happening, it was actually happening. Her fingers curled, sharp, pleasant pain when she tangled them in his hair, pulling his lips down.

One hand on the table braced him over her, and the other flicked open the next button and the next, until his fingers splayed on her belly, spreading, then curling in, and he felt the flesh shivering as she took rapid, panting breaths.

He lifted his head from her breast and laid a trail of little nips and bites up to her throat, along her collarbone, leaving tiny rosy marks he would see even when she was fully-dressed, a reminder of just what had happened. Each one drew a wonderful breathless whimper from her, and she tugged on his hair with one hand, the other grasping at his shirt and pulling at it.

“Off,” she whispered heatedly. “Not fair to be the only one half-dressed.”

He hesitated, his lips a hair’s breadth from her throat. Until then, it felt like this was all for her, but if he was undressing, if his skin was being touched, if this was mutual, then… then, it was something so much more complicated and dizzying.

She tugged again, demanded, her fingers twisting into the fabric until it pulled up beneath his waistcoat. “Off,” she repeated breathlessly.

He knew if he was asked at a later date how he did it, removing the shirt without magic or removing his hands from her body, he could never truly answer, because the moment his shirt was undone, the moment her hands pressed to his chest, his thoughts went flying, and he was sure they would never pull back together again.

She bit her lip, staring up at him, as her hands moved across his chest, touching him as daringly as he had touched her. He tried to breathe in, breathe deep, but every breath caught and hitched, and it only got worse when her lips turned up in a knowing smile and the little vixen curled her fingers and dragged her nails down. A sound caught in his throat, sharp and hungry, and it made her eyes gleam.

One of her hands slid to his shoulder, tugging him back down towards her, and he tried to catch his breath, focus his mind, but with those eyes, those lips, the press of her chest to his, skin on skin…

The hand on her belly slipped, lower than he had realised, and he felt her tremble. No return now, he thought dazedly, nuzzling along her jaw line, as his fingers trailed down the crease of her hip to the valley between her thighs. His body wasn’t touching there, not yet, not daring enough, but his fingertips ventured, and he was sure he would burn up with the warmth of her.

She was panting softly against his ear, her chest rising and falling so rapidly against his, and he took a slow draw of air before tracing his lips around the curve of her ear, just as his fingers gently teased the sensitive flesh between her thighs. She twitched delightfully, and then again, when a fingertip and the very tip of his tongue flickered inwards in the same moment.

The sound she made, something between a gasp and an utterly wanton moan, leapt from ear to groin in a heartbeat, and the breath he had been holding escaped in a shuddering gasp against her ear.

One of her feet moved, dragging up the outside of his leg, and he didn’t have to be a mind-reader to know that she felt the same way about his trousers as she had about his shirt. He moved his fingers again, slowly, teasing, hoping against hope it would distract her.

It did, for a moment, and then she was pushing herself up on one elbow, her other arm around his neck, and they were chest to chest, and her hand was moving down his side, and to the front of his trousers, and…

“Belle…” He wished he could have shouted it, to stop her, to tell her to wait, anything but the tiny breathless whimper that escaped him.

Her cheek was against his, so warm, and her breath on his skin, her voice whispering his name in his ear. Names have power, and on the right lips, they can bring a man to his knees.

Her hand was so unbelievably hot. Tentative, yes, hesitating, yes, but then she touched and any chance of thinking scattered to the four winds. 

It was only a moment of contact, enough to make his legs turn to water and his head spin, then she was leaning back again, draping herself on the table, and sliding her hips that little closer to him until all that was between them was his trembling hand. The shirt was wide open and she shone like alabaster.

He moved his hand to her thigh. It had to stop. They had to stop. If they went any further, he couldn’t see what good could come of it. Blue eyes gazed at him through smoky lashes, and she was biting her lip again, anticipating, and he could feel her against him, could feel the tantalising heat of her body.

“Belle…” he whispered again, his voice cracking. Her choice. He knew he wouldn’t and couldn’t take anything from her that she didn’t want, and it was always, always her choice. “Are you sure?”

Her lips turned up and suddenly, her legs were around him and she pulled him hard against her. Any resistance there might have been was torn away, and her soft keening cry was echoed by his as he all but fell forward. His hands slammed down on either side of her on the table, his nails carving furrows into the wood.

For a long, aching moment, they were motionless. 

His head hanging, Rumpelstiltskin gathered his breath raggedly, tried to think straight, tried to check himself for any changes, but all he could think on was the heat surrounding him, the silky legs, the girl beneath him.

With effort, he lifted his head, expecting to see regret, or pain, or some other terrible emotion in her eyes, but she was smiling, breathless and triumphant. “I’m sure,” she whispered, and her hands slid up his arms to pull him down to her.

**Author's Note:**

> And of course, Rumpel is a gent and won't let me go further than that. Still, it's the smuttiest I've got for them :)


End file.
